orror in his face.

Okanagan laughed a little almost silent laugh that had a very grim
undertone in it. "Yes, sir. That's just what he did. Don't you know
Harry yet?" he said. "Still, he didn't figure that all the killing
would be done by the other man. See here, this is where he gripped
him, and tried to get the knife in. They fell over together there.
Harry was played out and bleeding hard, or that man would never have
got away when he once had his hands on him."

Seaforth stared at the rent-down undergrowth, and had no great
difficulty in reconstructing the scene. Smashed fern and scattered
leaves as well as the red smears on the snow bore plain testimony to
the fierceness of that struggle, and he pictured his comrade grappling
with his adversary while his strength flowed from him with that
horrible red trickle. The light that came down between towering trunks
showed that his face was grey and stern, and Okanagan, who looked at
him, nodded as it were approvingly.

"I've seen enough," said the former. "If I can find that man he will
not get away from me."

"Well," said Okanagan simply, "we're short of the bullet now, and I'll
know better what to do with Harry when we find it. It's low down in
one of those cedars yonder."

"It will be deep in at that range," said Seaforth.

"No," said Okanagan quietly. "I don't think it will. It's pretty
plain from the hole it made that it wasn't a common bullet, and I'm
kind of anxious to know if all of it came out again."

Seaforth shivered a little as he assisted in the search, and his lips
were set when Okanagan, digging something out of the cedar-bark with
his knife, laid it in his palm. It was a little piece of blackened
lead that was ragged in place of round, as though the soft metal had
been rent open and bent backwards. Then the two men looked at each
other, and the hot fury that for a moment flushed Seaforth to the
temples, passed and left him with a curious vindictive coldness and a
faint shrinking from the touch of the murderous lead. Okanagan's eyes
were very steady, but there was a little glow down at the back of them.

"Nicked across with a hack saw or a file--and it's not all here," he
said. "It strikes me the sooner we find the rest of it the better this
weather."

Seaforth drew in his breath. A strip of lead torn off that bullet was
rankling in his comrade's flesh, and during the night bitter frost had
laid its grip upon the forest. Wounds